Never Tickle a Time Lord
by Carlisle Cooperative
Summary: The Doctor licks a wall. As a result, he and Rose spend the day naked together. Written as a gift for firefaery2 at LJ, who requested “Ten nekked except for specs and chucks!”
1. Chapter 1

"It's beautiful here," announced Rose, as they walked hand-in-hand through the town. Its streets were paved in a spongy, purple brick that was a little like walking on foam and Rose was bouncing as she stepped.

"I'm glad you think so," the Doctor replied.

Something about his tone made her look at him. "What, you don't like it?"

He scratched the back of his neck before he answered. "Well, it's a bit dull, isn't it? No mystery to solve, no plague to cure, no crisis to avert, no disaster to repair. There's nothing going on here." He glowered at an inhabitant, passing them on the street, who looked alarmed and sidled away from them.

"They're living in peace. Leave them alone." Rose smiled warmly at the strange creature. It basically resembled a human, only with much longer legs and arms and hands and feet and fingers and toes. And with a strange smoothness. They were entirely hairless and moved like they were flowing. Rose found it captivating. And relaxing.

"I'm not saying I'm going to _cause _ a war to break out," the Doctor grumbled. "It's just…Would a little excitement kill them?"

"Tell me about the buildings," Rose said, to distract him. "What are they made out of?"

The Doctor frowned. The walls of the buildings, like the inhabitants of the planet, were all extremely smooth and extremely shiny. Rose couldn't decide whether they were blinding white or gunmetal grey in colour; they seemed to keep shifting. Then again, the light on the planet was itself iridescent, the result of one very bright sun that was followed across the sky by six little moons, like a mother duck being followed by ducklings. "I think it's aoooeiiiieeauu," said the Doctor.

"You think it's what now?"

"Aooo—" he began, then waved his hand. "Doesn't matter. It's a fairly common mineral in this solar system. Practically indestructible. Here. Feel it." He took her hand and laid it against the wall of the nearest building.

It felt as if she'd plunged her hand into a cooling curtain of water, although the wall was neither wet nor moving. Rose laughed, delighted. "That's amazing."

"It is quite something," the Doctor conceded, laying his own hand against it. A frown flickered over his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Not 'wrong,' just unexpected," he replied, thoughtfully, then leaned in and gave the wall a thorough lick. "Just as I thought. It's not pure aooeiiiieeauu."

Rose was regarding him with her nose wrinkled. "You know, when you do things like that?"

"Things like what?"

"Lick walls."

"Yeah?"

"It doesn't make me want to let you stick that tongue down my throat, knowing the places it's been."

He flashed a grin that she felt in her blood, which was really unfair of him. "Liar."

"Don't kiss me," she warned him, because he looked like he was getting ready to do just that.

"You don't mean that."

No, she didn't. "Yes, I do. You shouldn't go around licking things like that."

"You don't mind when I lick you like that."

"That's different. You're _supposed _ to lick me."

"I don't think your mother would agree with—"He flinched and rubbed at the back of his neck, drawing his eyebrows together in annoyance. "What in bloody hell was that?" he said, and then plummeted to the ground abruptly in a dead faint.

"Doctor!" Rose's eyes widened as she dropped to her knees beside him. He was breathing, and both hearts were steadily beating, but he stirred not at all when she shook him.

"Step away from him," said a voice.

Rose looked up. There was a tight knot of three of the planet's inhabitants looming over her. Well, she thought. Whatever was wrong with the Doctor it couldn't be that bad, because the TARDIS was, thankfully, still translating. "What have you done to him?" she demanded.

"Step away from him," the one in front repeated.

She shook her head. "No way. Whatever you've done to him, fix—Oh." She stopped talking when he aimed the gun at her. Guns, she thought, always looked the same, in every culture. She lifted her hands in the air to show she was unarmed. "Listen, I'm not threatening you. I just want you to—"

"Step away from him."

She considered, decided she might get farther if she obeyed, and stood cautiously, taking a step away from the Doctor. "Okay. Whatever's going on—Oi!" The two who hadn't spoken had picked the Doctor up, one gripping his ankles, the other under his armpits. "What do you think you're doing?"

"He is under arrest," said the spokesalien.

"Under arrest?" Rose echoed, incredulously. "For what?"

"He licked the wall."

"So? You can't possibly mean it's against the law to lick the wall." No one answered her. The little group started walking off with the Doctor. "Wait a second." She jogged after them. "You can't just take him away. What did you do to him?"

"It's harmless," said the spokesalien. "He's fine. Standard procedure." He indicated the gun. "Now, stop following us."

"If you think I'm just going to let you carry him away, you're out of your mind."

"You're not under arrest," the spokesalien pointed out, reasonably.

"Oh, no?" Rose cocked an eyebrow at him, then leaned over and licked the nearest wall. It tasted awful. She couldn't help the face she made as she straightened. The aliens did not have terribly expressive faces, but they did look floored by her actions. "I'm under arrest now, aren't I? Although there's no need for the gun. I'll come peacefully."

There was a moment of silence. Then the spokesalien said, grudgingly, "Go," and prompted her direction with the gun.

The two other aliens carrying the Doctor walked in front of her, leading the way to an undistinguished building with two wide double doors. It was dim and cool inside, and the air had a sharp taste to it, almost metallic. Rose followed as the aliens continued carrying the Doctor down the hallways, worrying now that they would be put in separate cells, and trying to establish some sort of plan if that happened. They stopped at what appeared to be a dead end, and she watched as the spokesalien pushed some unseen button on the wall to the left. It slid open smoothly and soundlessly, revealing a relatively small room, completely empty. The aliens carried the Doctor in and dropped him in an unceremonious heap on the floor. Then, to her relief, the spokesalien ushered her in as well.

The two other aliens had shoved the Doctor onto his stomach. "What are you—" she began, alarmed anew, but one of them pulled a small, red ball out of the back of the Doctor's neck, and the Doctor immediately sat up.

And he was clearly okay, because he was in full complaining mode. "What the hell?" he whined, rubbing at his neck. "That stung, you know. What is this all about?" He sat on the floor and glared at their captors.

"You're under arrest," the spokesalien informed him. Another alien padded in, handed him two pieces of paper and two pens. "Ah," he said. "Here we are. Sign these."

Rose took the piece of paper and pen she was handed. The type was tiny, the words crammed together. No way was she reading that. She signed it immediately.

The Doctor, meanwhile, had pulled out his glasses and was reading his piece of paper carefully. "What could I possibly be under arrest for?"

"Public display of tongue."

The Doctor looked at the spokesalien in disbelief, over the top of his specs. "Public display of what?"

"Tongue," Rose snapped at him. "Because you went and bloody licked the wall."

The Doctor regarded her with interest. "And what are you under arrest for?"

"Well, I licked the wall, too. Couldn't let you get arrested all on your own. Unconscious and helpless as you were."

"I was not helpless," he protested.

"You will sign the form," the spokesalien interrupted, firmly.

"Not until I read it," said the Doctor, just as firmly, turning his gaze back to his form.

"Sign it now," said the spokesalien, lifting his gun up.

"Will you just sign it?" Rose sighed.

"Hold on a second." The Doctor frowned at the words on the paper. "I'm not—"

"Sign the bloody thing," she commanded him. "It'd be pretty boring in here for me if you're unconscious again."

"I don't—" he began, petulantly, but the spokesalien made a show of aiming his gun and Rose said, in that warning tone she had, "Doctor," so he signed and handed it back.

The spokesalien turned to Rose. "You will remove your clothing."

Rose blinked. "I'll do what?"

"That's what I was trying to tell you," said the Doctor. "The forms said we have to surrender all our clothing."

"And change into what?"

"Nothing," the spokesalien answered her.

"Nothing? You want me to just get naked?"

"Standard procedure," said the spokesalien.

"What about him?" She waved at the Doctor.

"Him, too."

She sighed heavily, and then pulled off her top.

"Wait a second!" the Doctor squeaked. "You're just going to get undressed?"

"How many times do I have to tell you? We don't want to get shot, yeah? Take your clothes off." She took off her bra and handed it to an alien who was waiting for her clothing and folding it all very neatly for her.

The Doctor stared at her in appalled horror.

"You must remove your clothing," the spokesalien reminded the Doctor, brandishing his gun again a bit.

"I…I don't…Really?"

"You'd better get started," said Rose, by now removing her shoes. "You wear so much clothing; it's going to take you forever. I've just about given up on getting him completely undressed," she confided to the alien, as she handed him her jeans. "Takes too bloody long, you know? I just concern myself with the vital parts, and maybe, if there's time, I work on getting his six shirts off of him."

The Doctor had grudgingly taken off his brown coat and shrugged out of his suit jacket. "I don't wear six shirts. And do you think we could stop talking about the clothes I do and do not wear and whether or not you take them off me?"

"You may keep your footwear," the spokesalien informed Rose as she went to hand over her trainers.

"I can?"

"Of course," he responded, politely. "We are not savages."

Rose sat and put her trainers back on. She watched as the Doctor, as slowly as possible, took his shirt, Henley, and vest off. She leaned back on her elbows with interest as he took his time taking off his own trainers. He was grumbling under his breath, words she couldn't catch but she could tell he wasn't happy. It took him forever to take off his trousers and pants. Even the spokesalien began sighing in impatience. Rose wanted to assure the spokesalien that she'd experienced that same frustration many times.

When the Doctor was finally finished, the spokesalien said, "You may keep your footwear."

"Thanks," the Doctor bit out, sarcastically.

Then the aliens glided out of the room and closed the door behind them. The Doctor pulled his trainers on and looked at Rose, miserable and furious all at once. He was still wearing his specs, and he tipped his head to glare at her over the top of them.

"Well," she drawled. "You wanted excitement."

"They could have left us our socks," the Doctor said, petulantly. Rose gazed steadily at him. "Stop looking at me," he said, stiffly, walking to the other side of the room and dropping to the floor.

"You know," Rose said, with exaggerated casualness, "you've got one job: Know alien mores. That's it. One job. Know! Alien! Mores!"

The Doctor sniffed a bit, as if offended. "I drive the TARDIS, too."

"You don't drive it very well," she pointed out.

"Oi! That's just mean."

"And now you're going to sulk."

"Time Lords don't sulk."

"Time Lords are world-class sulkers."

"You shouldn't insult naked Time Lords, Rose."

"Because then they sulk."

"I'm not sulking! Stop looking at me!"

The room—cell—lapsed into uncomfortable silence. Despite his protestations, the Doctor remained sitting against the wall, practically in the corner of the small room; he'd drawn his knees up, wrapped his arms around his shins, and positioned his feet quite carefully to preserve what little modesty he could. He was still sulking, in spite of what he said.

Rose tried desperately to find something interesting elsewhere in the cell, not wanting to push the Doctor further into the uncharacteristic snit he was already in. The grey walls were made of the same unpronounceable mineral that had landed them in this mess, and provided no distraction. Rose chanced a glance at the Doctor, easily the most interesting thing in the room. It really was unfair how attractive he was, balled in the corner, pouting in his specs and chucks. His hair had become ruffled as he'd stripped off the layers of clothing, and it provided him the look of a sulky five-year-old; despite her frustration with him at the moment, Rose found a small smile creeping across her face. For a 900-plus-year-old alien, it really was ridiculous how tetchy he was being about being nude. And for as often as he had been nude in this body….

She sighed, causing the Doctor to look up. "Were you looking at me?" He seemed appalled at the idea.

Rose licked her lips; of course she had been _looking. _The Doctor was naked—well, mostly. The fact that he had retained his shoes and his glasses only emphasized how very bare the rest of him was. Either a yes or no answer, however, would be taken the wrong way. She chose to use one of the Doctor's old conversational manoeuvres: diversion. "How are we getting out of here?"

He huffed. "I'm not doing anything until they give me my clothes back. I searched high and low for that suit, and I'm not running off without it. And I'm not running off in the altogether." He set his chin on his knees sulkily.

Rose rolled her eyes. All of the times he'd practically ruined his suit; all of the times he'd given her grief for her '21st century inhibitions,' and he chose _now _to worry about those things? "Honestly, Doctor. It's not like you've never been naked before. It's not like _we've_ never been naked before. In a room. Together."

"But we're usually doing other things, and the room's much more comfortable. Pillows and duvets and...and...carpet! And snogging. And shagging." He smiled a bit.

His last statement triggered a new worry in Rose. "Oh my gosh! This...this isn't one of those 'shag-or-die' type places, is it?" The Doctor looked up at her, questioningly. "You know, like in those cheesy sci-fi stories or romance novels." The Doctor arched an eyebrow eloquently. "Not that you've read those. Or me. I've heard about them from Shereen," she finished quickly, blushing slightly.

"Sounds like something your mum would think of," he muttered darkly. Rose peered at him, having not heard the specifics but getting the gist of the sentiment. He put on a bland look.

"Right," continued Rose. "Shag or die. This isn't one of those situations, is it? Because while I like shagging you—love it—I'm not really comfortable performing for an audience."

"What does _that _mean?"

"Well...they made us get naked! Together!" She blushed uncomfortably, and once again changed the subject. "Can we just find a way out of here? Please?"

The Doctor huffed, annoyed, and made no effort to move. Whether it was because of her lack of interest in performing for an audience, or because he was still being oddly stubborn about being naked, Rose wasn't sure. She walked over to him and crouched in front of him; he remained truculent. She bent her head down, trying to catch his eye, but he stubbornly refused to look at her.

"Oh, for the love of..." Rose had had enough. His eyes now closed in an effort to avoid catching her eye, and his brain fully focused on pouting, he didn't notice when Rose moved her hands to hover over his waist. "Last chance, Time Lord."

He didn't respond. Rose took drastic action.

She was merciless in her tickling of the Doctor, who, she had learned, was quite ticklish under the ribs. In spite of himself, he started to giggle, and was forced to uncurl himself from his modesty-protecting ball to defend himself against Rose. Once he had been roused from his funk, it was the work of a few short moments for him to turn the tables on his attacker and Rose quickly found herself with her back against the wall and wrists pinned above her head. The Doctor and she were nose-to-nose, Rose seated while the Doctor sat on his haunches, and her grin faded at the intensity of the look he was giving her. Even after being romantically involved for so long, the look still left her breathless, and she hoped never to grow tired of it. He looked down at her lips, then raised his brown eyes to meet her hazel ones.

"Rose Tyler," he practically growled. She wondered if he was going to snog her or shag her, predicament and shoes be damned, and was surprised when he instead leaned back a bit and spoke. "We do not have to shag to save our lives. Not with this lot." He let go of one wrist and pointed at her with his free hand. "And it is not nice to tickle a Time Lord. Haven't you read the children's book? 'Never Tickle a Time Lord?' Surely you found it in the library? I may have been working out some complex equation to get us out of here when you so rudely interrupted me!"

"Yeah, 'cept your pout and your sulking kind of gave you away."

"I was not sulking!"

"You were!"

He let out a heavy sigh before releasing her other hand and standing up. As he pulled her to her feet, he reiterated one last time, "Time Lords Do. Not. Sulk." Rose made as if to once again disagree, and he silenced her with a quick peck on the lips. "No tongue—don't want to get into even deeper trouble," he whispered wickedly into her ear before turning to give the room a proper look.

Rose found herself suddenly breathless, and took a moment to consciously focus on the task at hand. "Right. Escape. So...now what?"

The Doctor was staring intently at the wall he had been leaning against. "Now..." he dragged the word out. Rose sighed. Despite whatever the Doctor was about to say, he had no plan. "Now, we sit and await trial."

Rose blinked, sure she had misunderstood. "We _what_?"

He turned to face her. "Sit and await trial. The solicitors should be along soon. Soon-ish. Sooner rather than later."

"That's it? That's your escape plan?"

"Yep." He popped the 'p' and shot her a dazzling grin. "Been the plan all along, really. Funny stuff, this aoooeiiiieeauu. As you said, feels like water—only on the surface, though. Hard as diamonds when you get down to it. Harder, really…due to a variety of things you clearly don't care about." He had noticed Rose's impatient look. "It'd be a job to get out of here even if they hadn't nicked my jacket—and don't think I'm forgetting that you persuaded me—practically forced me!—to sign a contract to give up my clothes!"

Rose was slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in the conversation's pace and focus, but the Doctor carried on.

"Funny about the shoes, really, but still. You rushed me! Didn't even give me a chance to get beyond the first page, all '_Will you just sign_ _it_'and '_sign the bloody thing, Doctor_.' Given enough time, I could have found a legal loophole _before _they took our clothes."

"They had a gun pointed at you." Rose felt compelled to remind him of this detail.

"Pish posh, Hieronymus Bosch." He pulled a face at the phrase. "Yes, it was a gun in the strictest sense of the word, firing a projectile, yes. But all it would have done was knocked me out again! And they wouldn't have taken my clothes without a signature, so they'd have to have woken me up eventually. I would have been through that contract in no time. But nooooo, you had to rush me."

Rose threw her hands up in the air and settled against the opposite wall. The room was chilly, and she wrapped her arms across her chest, rubbing her hands over her upper arms to generate some heat. The chill wasn't helped by the strange, unsettling, watery feeling of the wall at her back. The Doctor, his rant apparently over, came over and sat down, pulling her into an embrace. Rose snuggled into him, the room cool enough to make even the Doctor's body feel warm. And the Doctor's body was far nicer to lean against than the wall-of-water-that-wasn't-water.

"I may have forgotten a social more, but I remember this—we'll be brought before a judge and asked to explain what we did. They're really quite reasonable here, and we should be free in a jiff." He winced at his use of the word. "Just let me do the talking."

"I never have much of a choice with you, do I? Can't get a word in edgewise."

"You're hilarious, Rose Tyler," he told her dryly.

She giggled.

"I don't have anywhere to put my specs," he complained.

"Put them on top of your head."

"I don't like to do that," he said, shifting to lift a hand to perch them precariously in the thicket of his hair.

"Why not?" When he didn't answer, she tipped her head back so she could see him. "Why don't you like to do that?"

He shrugged innocently. "No reason."

She grinned at him. "Is it because they ruin your hair?"

"No," he responded, sounding almost as if he were on the edge of another sulk.

"Your hair's always a mess. It looks good that way. You know it."

"I don't care how my hair looks," he denied, although he looked a little pleased at her comment.

She settled comfortably back against him, cuddling into him for warmth. She'd kill for a blanket, she thought. She had to get her mind off the coolness of the air. "Let's play a game."

"What sort of game?"

"I went to the store and I bought apples," said Rose.

"What did you buy apples for?" he asked, with interest.

She laughed. "No, no, now it's your turn."

"My turn to buy apples?" He was plainly perplexed.

"No, it's a game. The alphabet game. You know, I go to the store and I buy apples, then you go to the store and you buy apples and bread."

"What am I doing with the apples and the bread?"

"Forget it," she sighed, and they lapsed into silence. Rose picked up one of his hands and traced the lines of his palm.

"Now, Rose," he began, after a moment, in a tone she recognized as his Lecture Tone. "What have we learned today?"

"We have learned," she answered obediently, walking her fingertips across his knuckles, "that you shouldn't lick things that aren't me."

"That isn't what we've learned," he chided.

"Oh, no? That's what you're going to learn, then, the next time I don't let that tongue of yours near me."

He cheated by rasping his tongue over the pulse point in her neck, which, of course, caused her to make an embarrassing sound rather like a purr.

"Well, that's what I've learned today," he mumbled against her skin.

"What?" she murmured.

"That you will be unable to enforce any rule that prohibits my tongue from making contact with you."

"And i _I've /i _ learned today that you're a smug bastard."

He chuckled. "No, you've learned today that you should always read everything before you sign."

"No, I really think I've learned today that you're a smug bastard."

He kissed her earlobe in reply, not with any purpose, almost absently, full of half-distracted affection. Little gestures like that never failed to undo her. She could never stay angry with him, for anything, because he would do something random and silly and totally endearing, like kiss her earlobe, or suddenly unearth a brush and set to combing out her hair, or hug her to him and button them both into his coat.

Despite wearing trainers, the lack of socks meant Rose's toes were growing cold. She slid the toes of her shoes under the Doctor's leg, but that had very little effect because his leg was cold. Possibly colder than she was. For the first time actually concentrating on it, she pressed his fingers between her hands, recognizing that they were cool to the touch. He was normally cooler than she expected, and for the first time she connected that with all of those layers he was fond of wearing. When she was comfortable in a T-shirt, he would keep his coat wrapped around him, and she had put it down to just the Doctor being the Doctor and eccentric and not human. But she now suspected he was susceptible to cold, which made her feel a bit bad; she was getting uncomfortably chilly, so it had to be worse for him. And he wasn't complaining, which deserved a reward.

She draped her legs over his in an effort to share some of her warmth with him, then said, "I'm sorry I made you sign the form. Before you could find the loophole."

"Ah, well, it taught us a very good lesson, didn't it, though?"

"I was worried," she said, running her fingers along his fingers. "I was worried about you. Even if the gun was only _supposed _to knock you out, they don't know you're a Time Lord. How was I to know it wouldn't affect you differently? You dropped like a ton of bricks, no warning." She kissed the tip of his thumb. "I was worried."

He was silent for a moment. "I am very difficult to kill. Much more difficult to kill than you, you know, so you really shouldn't have been so foolish as to get yourself arrested and thrown in this cell with me."

"Better with two, right?"

"Indeed." She felt him rest his lips in her hair. "Thank you for being worried."

"Oh, any time," she said, lightly, shifting to press her chest against his side and rest her hands against his chest, which did nothing to warm them up. No wonder he preferred being naked in rooms with duvets, she thought. "You're sure this isn't a shag-or-die situation?"

"Really, Rose, you're obsessed with this shag-or-die business."

"It's just…They stick us in this cell, they take all our clothing, and it's freezing. Of course we're going to think how to share body warmth."

"I wasn't thinking any such thing. You have an extremely dirty mind, Rose Tyler. I do admire it so."

She laughed. "This is the most uneventful imprisonment we've ever had."

"The solicitors will be by any minute. Then it'll take no time at all to get our clothes back."

"Solicitors? What, like at home?"

"Welll…not quite. They adopted the English legal system—Crown Court even though they don't have a King or Queen, barristers, solicitors, the whole kit and caboodle. But after a few years, the thing fell apart—everyone was confused, you see, about the difference between a solicitor and a barrister. They had to re-set the entire system. Not the laws of course, but how they tried them. Nothing against the barristers—lovely silks—but they decided to just combine the two and call them 'solicitor.' The barristers weren't happy, but they got some concessions. Sped cases right up, but it seems there's a ton of frivolous litigation now that it's so easy to use the system…" He trailed off as the wall to their right slid open.

Standing in the hallway was the spokesalien from earlier in the day, and an alien wearing a wig and dressed in something that looked suspiciously like the black robes worn in court. "Is he…she... _it _ wearing a peruke?!" Rose whispered in astonishment.


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor appeared not to have heard Rose's question, standing up excitedly as the two aliens entered the cell. He pulled his glasses from his hair and went to put them on, before pulling them back off in disgust. "They're all dirty!" he whinged. He looked around for some place to clean them and, finding nothing, put them back on top of his hair with an air of put-upon impatience.

Rose, having stood and joined the Doctor in facing the aliens, leaned in and whispered, "That's what you get for putting so much pomade in your hair." She stood back with a smirk and looked with interest at their solicitor.

"We have come to speak with you about your case," the spokesalien announced blandly. "This is your Solicitor—you can call him 'Solicitor.'" Their legal counsel stepped into the room and inclined his head. Seeing the Doctor return the gesture, Rose followed suit. "He will ascertain your motive in determining to the break the law. You will go before the magistrate in one iiioseguudn." With that, the spokesalien stepped back out of the room; the door slid silently shut behind him.

"Er, what's an eeee….eeeoooo…" Rose once again leaned in to whisper to the Doctor.

"Iiioseguudn. About, oh, fifteen minutes earth standard, I should think?" The Doctor looked up, as if to check the path of the sun; he blinked in surprise when his eyes were greeted by the grey ceiling instead of the sky, and looked back down at Rose. She was so close their noses were practically touching, and he was briefly distracted by the feel of her warm body pressed against his. Why did she have to lean against him to whisper in his ear? Didn't she know how distracting that was? He was pulled back to the present by her next words.

"Oh. Shouldn't you and our solicitor get cracking on our case, then?"

"Right. Right! I'll just speak with…with Mr. Solicitor." The Doctor turned his gaze towards the alien in question, and took a step forward. "Solicitor?"

The be-robed alien had been watching their exchange with an air of boredom; Rose assumed he was rather like the counsel appointed to defend indigent defendants, and as such probably saw a little bit of everything in his job. As the Doctor and the Solicitor began to discuss the points of the case—it seemed the Doctor's brilliant get out of jail free card was simply "I'm an off-worlder!"—Rose found herself wondering. Did the Solicitor choose this job? How long was law school? How old was the solicitor? Most importantly, where had the robe and peruke come from? Surely those didn't persist for hundreds of thousands of years? What a legacy. She'd never been intimately involved in the court system herself, but growing up on the estate meant she had heard enough about the process to have a rough idea of how things would work—that was, assuming the rest of the legal system mirrored the British one. Did these aliens have a special attorney for the aliens—the people from off planet? Was it a coveted job? Did—

"Rose?" _That _tone of voice from the Doctor. The one that bordered close to 'Silly ape, I've been looking for you all over the place.'

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Have you anything to add? Time's almost up."

"Oh, er…" She looked at the Doctor blankly; her inattentiveness to the conversation he'd been having meant that she'd lost the plot.

"About why you licked the wall?" He seemed to be trying to convey something through his expression, his eyes intently boring into hers. What on earth was he trying to tell her?

"Oh! That. Wall. Right. Simple, really." She paused, then barrelled on—the truth was the only way to go. "They were takin' you away, unconscious, maybe dead. And they weren't telling me anything. Was the only way to stay with you, make sure you were all right. I couldn't leave you alone, could I?" She cringed at the slightly defensive note in her voice, and looked down at her feet.

"Rose." Ah, now_ that _tone of voice she definitely knew. It was rare and precious to her—the gentle note to his voice always made her feel warm, her stomach and heart clenching at the depth of feeling he put into the pronunciation of her name. She slowly raised her eyes to meet his, and caught her breath at the intensity in his eyes. As she looked at him, he replied softly, "Of course you couldn't." Like a switch, his mood changed as he turned back to face their solicitor. "Could she? If the constabulary had been so good as to explain to her what was going on, then she wouldn't be in the dock with me! And if they had thought to ask me what _I _ was doing instead of shooting me, we wouldn't be in this mess at all." The Doctor beamed, sure that his explanation would be all that was necessary.

The Solicitor looked unconvinced. Rose hoped it was down to the aliens' faces just not being expressive, as opposed to being an opinion of their potential for success.

"Have you anything else to say?" the alien asked, tonelessly.

"Oh, I have plenty more to say! Could talk for the universe, I could! Why is it that—oof! Rose!" Rose had elbowed him, deciding that this might have been one of the worst times ever to let his ADHD run away with him.

"I think he meant in our defence, Doctor. I don't have anything else to add. Do you?"

The Doctor, pout on his face, turned from Rose back to the Solicitor. "I can't think of anything, no. What do we need to do?"

The Solicitor gave them a litany of instructions; all of them basically boiled down to "Stand in the Dock. Say nothing. Do not expose your tongue." Rose thought those might have been the easiest instructions she'd ever received before going on trial on an alien planet, but she worried about the Doctor's ability to follow such simple guidance.

As the Solicitor concluded, the door slid open to reveal, once again, the spokesalien. "You will come with us."

As the Doctor and Rose linked hands and followed the aliens, she leaned over to him. "You _will _be able to follow those instructions, right?"

"Of course I will!"

"No, I mean it. I'm bloody sick of wearing nothing but my trainers and freezing to death." The Doctor looked her up and down, causing her to suddenly forget the cold. He licked his lips and made to speak, but was interrupted by Rose. "Don't expose your tongue!" She leaned in once again, and whispered, "If you can hold your tongue here, I promise you can do whatever you like with it back in the TARDIS."

The Doctor's jaw dropped. Rose hoped it was a good enough bribe to keep him quiet; it was the last thing she was able to say before they were escorted, single file, into the Dock to stand trial.

The room was enormous. Rose was not sure what she had expected it to look like but it was very long, with a very high ceiling, and all of it constructed of that ridiculous mineral that she was coming to despise. And the place was packed full of aliens, in several tiers of seating, all talking in a cacophony of chatter. Rose's eyes widened, because most of them had now focused to look with interest at her and the Doctor, still stark naked save for ridiculous trainers, and she blushed and stepped a bit closer to him. The Doctor's hand once again found hers and squeezed, almost automatically, which helped a bit.

"Doctor," she said, very, very softly, leaning into him a bit so her whisper would carry.

He made a humming noise of response in his throat, frowning murderously at a few aliens who he thought were gazing at Rose in a particularly lecherous manner.

"What happens now?"

"Not sure," he responded, keeping his voice low and his eyes on the aliens. "Probably said on the form, but, as you know, I didn't get to read the form, did I?"

"What're we going to do if they don't let us out?" she whispered.

He looked down at her, surprised, as if the thought had never even occurred to him. He lifted a shoulder in a negligent shrug. "We…run. Still got our trainers, don't we? And you and I, we are bloody good runners." He smiled at her in a reassuring manner.

"Your brilliant plan of escape is for us to just leg it?"

"Isn't it always?"

Rose considered and decided that was true. She glanced back at the alien audience, feeling very, very naked. This whole experience was slightly dreamlike. Any moment now, she thought, she'd wake up in the Doctor's bed, and he would be reading next to her, glasses perched on the end of his nose. He'd smile at her, and she'd say, _I had the strangest dream. We were naked._ And he'd reply, waggling his eyebrows, _We _are_ naked_. _No, no_ she'd correct him. _Naked in an alien courtroom.__Tell me more, Rose Tyler_ he'd say, tossing the book off the bed, and she'd giggle as he'd playfully roll on top of her--

"What in bloody hell are you thinking about?" the object of her fantasy hissed at her, sounding furious.

She blinked. Nope, still back in the alien courtroom, still being stared at and ogled and pointed at. She looked up at the Doctor. "Nothing," she said, quickly. "Why?"

"Because if you don't stop smiling like that, you're going to cause a bloody riot," he fumed, glaring at more aliens.

She chuckled. "Was I smiling? I was thinking of you."

"That's nice," he said. "Stop."

She didn't get to reply because an alien clambered to the top of a pedestal across from the dock. The alien crowd went instantly silent, watching. This alien was also decked out in a wig and robe, and Rose was once again struck by the outfit. She would have to ask the Doctor about it when they were free and clothed again. Or free and unclothed, as long as it was unclothed by choice. The alien raised a hand, and everyone instantly launched into some recitation that sounded to Rose like a pledge of some sort. The Doctor was plainly fascinated. He leaned forward a bit to catch every word.

The pledge over, the judge turned to the dock. "Solicitor!" he/she/it thundered in the otherwise silent courtroom. "What do your clients stand here accused of?"

"Public display of tongue," the Solicitor shouted up.

There was an audible gasp in the room. Rose frowned. What sort of society was perfectly okay with making you stand in front of them, everything but the feet out on display, but couldn't handle a bit of tongue?

"Public display of _tongue_?" thundered the judge alien, as if even he could not believe it.

The Doctor scowled and made a bit of a noise, as if offended. Rose elbowed him again. Liberal application of elbow to ribs was recommended when dealing with a Time Lord.

"What is their defence?" demanded the judge, as if he could not imagine that they could offer any defence at all.

"Well." Their solicitor sounded sceptical of their defence as well. Rose glared at him. "They are off-worlders. As you can…see." He gestured at them with a bit of distaste.

All of the aliens accepted the invitation and once again stared at Rose and the Doctor.

"What worlds are they from?" asked the judge alien.

"They claim to be from…Fromp." The Solicitor didn't sound as if he believed that, either.

Rose, eyebrows drawn together, glanced at the Doctor. His face was the mask of innocence that it never was unless he was guilty of something.

"Fromp, eh?" The judge alien looked at the Doctor and Rose. "Fromp?" he shouted, as if he thought they were hard-of-hearing.

"You can respond," the Solicitor sighed before taking a step back.

"Yes, Fromp," the Doctor answered, plainly thrilled to be speaking again. "Just a quick little jaunt, didn't know about the tongue thing, we'll be on our way—"

"Yellow Frompian!" thundered the judge alien.

Rose blinked. "Me?"

"Please explain the public display of tongue."

"Well, you see—" the Doctor began.

"I said the _yellow _ Frompian!" the judge alien roared.

Rose elbowed the Doctor again. "It was silly, your…honour?" she guessed at the proper form of address. "He has a very advanced sense of taste, you see, and he was just admiring the walls of your buildings, and I was just—"

"What else," interrupted the judge alien, "does he do with his tongue?" Out of the corner of her eye, Rose saw their solicitor take another step back.

"Well, he—he licks everything. You shouldn't take it personally. He's really very rude. I keep trying to tell him that he just can't—"

"Does he lick you?" asked the judge alien.

Rose's eyes widened. "I'm sorry?"

"What does he do with his tongue on you?" the judge alien persisted.

Was this a joke? Rose could feel the blush, and was well aware that everyone knew it was a full-body blush.

And the judge alien seemed to think that was answer enough. "Do you have a permit for that?" he demanded of the Doctor.

"Uh, for what?" asked the Doctor.

"For the things you do to her with your tongue."

The Doctor tugged on his earlobe. "Welllll, I didn't know I needed a…permit for…Look, nothing's been done with my tongue and her…I mean, I haven't really…Not on this planet," he stated, finally, firmly. "Nothing's happened on this planet."

The judge alien looked triumphant. "You licked her in the cell, sir!" he exclaimed, and there was an appreciative roar from the audience.

"Oh, bloody hell," mumbled the Doctor.

"I'm so gonna kill you," said Rose.

The roar of the crowd made it impossible to reply for a few moments, the residents of the planet aghast at the actions of the Doctor. Rose began to look around the room for exits; the grey mineral (she really, really hated grey) made it almost impossible to spot doors, but she thought perhaps she might be able to find some pathways that would lead to potential doors. The Doctor appeared to be regrouping and had once more donned his now horribly-smudged glasses.

"Silence!" The judge finally bellowed; Rose jumped, and the crowd immediately ceased their chatter. He turned to the Doctor. "Do you have any justification for this action?"

"A justification? Of course I have a justification for this action! If you'd only asked, I would have told it to you earlier. Only slipped my mind because, well, you were asking if I… _you know _…her in a…"The judge quivered in anger, and the room was filled with anticipatory twitters. "Well, in _that _ way. And, well, I haven't on _this _planet. Yes, I've…_you know_…her. But I was just checking to make sure she was well!" The twitters began to subside, although a sceptical chuckle or two could be heard. Rose had the feeling this was devolving into a Monty Python sketch, and fully expected the Doctor to out with "wink wink, nudge nudge" as he carried on.

"You will explain this." Disbelief was patent in the judge's voice, despite his/her/its lack of emotion. On the positive side, at least he/she/it had stopped quivering.

"You see, I wasn't quite sure how she'd be, first time on the planet and all. Well, first time anywhere but Fromp, come to that." The Doctor leaned forward and stage-whispered conspiratorially. "Bit of a rookie traveller, you know how they get." Rose was going to kill him when they got out of this. Kill him until he regenerated, the attractiveness of this version not withstanding. "Nothing against your fine sentries, but I didn't know if she'd got into anything…untoward…while I was out cold, and she seemed so wound up when we were being processed. I was worried. She's usually such a quiet and demure thing, following direction, asking _how high _ when I say jump, not saying _boo _ to anyone, that I thought for sure something must have happened to her. I thought she might calm down once we'd been left alone, but she kept at it, all high strung and questioning and not letting me think despite my clearly telling her to leave me alone…" He turned in Rose's direction; his eyes grew wide at her angry look, and he turned back to face the judge.

Oh, she was going to kill his next regeneration, too.

"Right. Uncharacteristic. So. Without our usual technology, the fastest way to determine whether she was herself was to, well…" The Doctor looked around, unsure. The room was starting to rumble again at the implication that he licked her. Willingly. "Well, I, er. _You know_." He refrained from miming the action, but only just. The judge began to quiver again. "Right on her jugular vein. Best place, you know, last tunnel before the superior vena cava and then **bang** Into the right atrium! Had to go for a vein to see how her body was processing things." He once again stage-whispered the last, as though afraid of Rose hearing.

If nothing else, the Doctor appeared to have stunned the room into silence. The Doctor bounced on the balls of his feet, while Rose counted to a thousand so she would not kill the Doctor immediately. She was up to two hundred and thirteen by the time the judge replied to the Doctor's blatant lies.

"You were concerned about your companion's welfare?" He sounded unconvinced.

"I was. I _am_." The Doctor's voice was low and sincere. Rose lost count.

"I have not heard of this ability in Frompians."

"Well, it's a new thing. You know how evolution goes, some folks get it, some folks don't, never quite sure when it will manifest itself in the general population. Tricky thing, genetics. And then you have to find a compatible mate…" He reached down and clasped her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Rose flushed with heat; she fervently hoped nobody would notice her blushing anew, that she was still pink from being exposed to public scrutiny in the most embarrassing of ways.

The judge appeared to consider the information. The Solicitor—who had been dead useless—slowly scooted forward, clearly expecting a ruling. Rose tried to keep her eyes forward and her attention focused on the room in the event a quick getaway was needed. She would not be distracted by what the Doctor had said, by his closeness…She felt him squeeze her hand again, gently, and she looked up to find him looking down at her with a small smile, and deep warmth in his eyes behind the filthy lenses of his glasses. She gave him a small smile back. Everything would be fine.

The judge pounded his/her/its gavel, and the room fell into silence. This was it, then.


	3. Chapter 3

"We have come to a decision. The Frompians must pay a fine of one hundred sopdinwef, sit through a hemi-iiioseguudn course on the dangers of their actions, and sign an agreement never to commit such acts again. They will then be released. With their clothing," he added, as if it were an afterthought. The gavel pounded again and the room filled with noise.

Rose blinked. That was it? She looked at the Doctor, prepared to ask a question, and was met with a warning glance from him. Perhaps that wasn't it? The useless Solicitor turned to them.

"You will follow me to pay your fine and attend the course."

"Thanks for the help," Rose muttered sarcastically.

Their solicitor bowed deeply. "You're quite welcome."

Hands still clasped, still wearing nothing but their trainers and, in the Doctor's case, a pair of glasses, they followed the useless creature out of the courtroom. The Doctor squinted as they walked, then reached up with his free hand to remove his glasses. He gave them a disgusted glance, and Rose wondered briefly if he was going to chuck them aside (thus earning them a fine for littering, no doubt) before he once again perched them on top of his head. She shook her head and stifled a giggle. They were led to a room with a small counter; behind it sat an alien who clearly was a bureaucrat. Dozens of planets and thousands—millions!—of light years travelled, and a bureaucrat was a bureaucrat was a bureaucrat. It was remarkable, the things that were universally constant.

They made arrangements to pay the fine—the Doctor had quite rationally pointed out that, without his clothes, he could hardly be expected to have the money on his person—and were escorted into yet another grey room. Rose had to stifle a giggle for the short duration of the class; it was like every horrible science film she had ever had to watch in school, complete with bored narrator and grainy film quality. She'd no idea the dangers of the tongue, and nearly collapsed in laughter when she looked over and found the Doctor absolutely entranced by the cautionary tale.

Their 'education' complete, they were presented with two stacks of paperwork to complete. Rose was content this time to let the Doctor read through the documents thoroughly, although without a clean set of glasses it took a maddening amount of time for him to read the fine print. At one point, he held the forms out as far as his arms would let him, and Rose finally took pity on his farsightedness and held the forms for him. Satisfied that he wasn't signing his clothes—or something far more important—away, he signed in an illegible scrawl; Rose followed suit, writing her name clearly and with care.

They were then ushered to yet another new room; Rose was stunned to see that it wasn't made of the grey mineral which seemed to be the only building material on the planet. Rather, this room was a deep, warm brown shot through with shades of burgundy. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, and she walked up to one of the walls for a closer look as the door slid closed behind them.

"Don't…_you know_…that," the Doctor said, walking up next to her.

She turned to him with a smile. "'s pretty. And it's not grey."

"No, it's not. Makes it valuable. We must be in the guest quarters." The Doctor wandered over to a low bench and sat down. He stretched out his legs and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and crossing his arms. Rose, deciding she was finished looking at the (apparently) rare mineral, turned to admire the view. The Doctor was completely relaxed and at ease wearing just his Chucks; his glasses were peeking out from the disaster his hair had become. Rose found him utterly irresistible and walked over to join the Doctor on the bench. She sat down, and let out a gasp of surprise.

"It's warm!" The stone, whatever it was, was warm to the touch, as though it had been heated. It wasn't uncomfortable—at least, not to her—but rather was soothing.

"It is," the Doctor agreed.

"And it's…soft, yeah? Feels like…velvet, I think. Warm velvet."

"It does," the Doctor said, somewhat sleepily. Rose looked closely at him; was he going to take a nap? Now? Here?

"So…what now?"

"Now we wait, Rose Tyler." The Doctor's reply echoed his earlier one in the cell. He remained leaned back, eyes closed.

"Oh. Ok. I'll just…wait then." She snuggled against him, and ran her eyes once more around the walls of the room. There was no other furniture beyond the bench on which they were seated; the walls were smooth, their colour inexplicably soothing. She felt her eyes drift shut, the inviting warmth and softness of the bench relaxing her, and the sound of the Doctor's heartsbeat faintly audible to her as she leaned her head against the hollow of his shoulder.

She must have dozed off; she found herself awoken suddenly as the Doctor stood and pulled her up with him. She blinked muzzily, and realized that the spokesalien was back. Two sentries stood behind him (her? Rose was fairly sure it was a 'him' but it was so hard to tell), holding a small box each.

"You have fulfilled the requirements of your punishment. We will return your clothing. You may get clothed." The two sentries moved forward and presented them, rather formally, with the boxes.

Rose looked down into the one she was presented and saw the brown and blue of the Doctor's suit. She moved to hand it to the Doctor, but stopped as he gave her a quick glance. "Still a few formalities to follow," he whispered as he bowed; Rose sketched a quick bow, then stared down at the box again. Surely she wasn't meant to wear the Doctor's clothes? They would never fit; even if they did, she'd ruin the cuffs of his trousers stepping all over them.

The aliens respectfully backed out of the room, and the door slid closed. She turned to the Doctor. "Can I have my clothes back now? Please?"

He looked down at the box he held, then back up at Rose. The look he gave her made her bones turn to jelly. "No, Rose Tyler, you may not. Custom dictates that companions dress each other before they leave."

Rose stared. That was interesting. "So…I'm meant to dress you, and you're meant to dress me?"

He gave her a slow smile. "Right in one." The heat radiating from his glance made Rose feel certain that the last thing she wanted was to be _clothed _ with the Doctor at the moment. "Old tradition for off-worlders—well, off-worlders that they like—a ceremonial transition from guest to traveller, and it shows that we've risen a bit in their esteem."

Rose raised an eyebrow. "You can remember _this _ custom, but you couldn't remember not to—" The Doctor cut her off, raising one finger to her lips to stop her before she uttered such an offensive word. Rose's face flushed.

"I remember this one," he said softly. Rose's mind went blank. He arched an eyebrow playfully and walked over to the bench. He set the box down, then bent over to remove his shoes; Rose found herself staring at the view he afforded, his lovely bum leading to long legs…

Having placed his shoes along the side of the bench, he reached in to the box and pulled out her knickers and bra. He stepped away from the bench and turned back to face Rose. "Come here, Rose," he said, his voice pitched lower than normal.

She walked over, not entirely certain her legs would support her. Shaking, she set the box of his clothes down, toed her trainers off, and turned to him. He knelt in front of her; with light pressure on her calf, he encouraged her to lift first one leg, then another, so he could slip her knickers on. The whisper of cotton up her legs, as his hands lightly brushed against her, was driving her to distraction. He stood as he finished pulling the knickers up, looking at her with dark eyes. Rose felt her breath hitch. "Now turn around." He barely whispered the instruction, and Rose felt her temperature spike. He slid her bra on, guiding the straps up her arms, and teasing her by not quite touching her as he ensured the garment fit before hooking the eyes in back. Rose thought she might just pass out. He walked around in front of her, eyes still dark and cheeks flushed. "Your turn."

Rose blinked, then realized it was her turn to dress him. She caught her breath; time to repay him for the kindness he had just shown her. She bent over and fished around the box before finding his pants. Garment in hand, she turned to the Doctor; she licked her lips reflexively as she moved towards him. He stood still, anticipation radiating off him in an almost tangible manner. She caught his eye before dropping to her knees in front of him; she saw his leg muscles tense as he tried not to react, causing her to bite her lip to keep a giggle from escaping. As he had done with her, she lightly touched first one leg, then the next to indicate he should step into the white cotton. The Doctor had placed his hands on her shoulders as he had balanced, and kept his hands there as she slowly slid the cotton up his legs and into place. They were close enough to kiss, and Rose watched the Doctor's eyes flicker between her lips and her eyes as they stood there. She gave him a sultry smile before turning back to the box for his vest.

It was a bit trickier to help him on with that, but the challenge was rewarded by her having her arms around him as she helped him slide the soft fabric down his torso. Together, they pulled the hem of the vest down; Rose could feel the increased heartsbeat of the Doctor as she pressed against him; she felt as if she were about to burst into flame. She stepped back, fighting the urge she had to rip his clothes back off of him.

The Doctor took a deep breath and once more walked over to the box that held Rose's clothing. He selected her jeans, looking at them and then her with a wicked gleam in his eye. Rose forgot to breathe for a moment, and then gasped as he walked over to her and around her, his focus centred on her as though he were working out a particularly tricky problem. "Well, Rose Tyler. How do you suppose we're meant to get these back on to you?" His softly posed question was deafening in the silent room, and Rose once more felt herself flush. She had no idea if it was a rhetorical question, so she paused before answering.

"You tell me."

He gave her a naughty grin before leading her over to the bench and seating her on the edge. He once more knelt before her; she reflexively reached out and, after removing his glasses and setting them gently aside, ran her hands through his hair. He looked up at her. "We're not going to get anywhere if you keep doing that." Rose let her hands fall from his hair, fingers lightly tracing along his jaw line; she could feel the muscles clench beneath her fingers as she brought her hands forward before returning them to her lap. He gave her a reproachful glance—which was ruined by its underlying heat—before returning his focus to her jeans. He was bundling each leg of the denim in a way similar to that used by Rose to put on tights, and he gently lifted each leg to guide it into the pooled blue fabric before pulling the jeans up to her knees. He looked back up at her. "Right, this might be a bit tricky. I can't let go of the fabric, you see—bad form in the ritual—but neither can I let you do anything on your own."

Rose arched a brow. "Part of the ritual as well?"

"Maybe." She let out a little laugh. "Right, ready?" She nodded; he helped her up by her elbow with one hand, and deftly guided the rough fabric up her legs with the other. They were, once again, standing close enough that their entire bodies were practically touching, and Rose rested her hands on the Doctor's shoulders. She loved the look of concentration on his face as he wiggled the jeans the rest of the way up to her hips. Her breath caught as he slid his hands across to pull up the zip and button the waist of her jeans, causing his eyes to fly to hers. Rose was desperate to kiss the Doctor, and found her eyes drifting down to his lips. That lower one was always begging for a nibble…surely she could just lean in and…

The Doctor stepped back and waggled a finger in front of her. "Now, now, Rose. Getting dressed is serious business. No distractions." She pouted, then turned back to grab the Doctor's trousers. He knew what he was doing to her, and she'd be darned if she wasn't going to do the same in return. Trousers in hand, she looked back over her shoulder at the Doctor.

"C'mon then, let's get you into these trousers." She used her head to indicate he should come over to the bench; when he got there she gently pushed him down into a sitting position, then slowly lowered herself to her knees in front of him. She looked up at him, the tip of her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. The Doctor's gaze turned a bit glassy, and he started to breathe shallowly through his mouth. Rose looked down to hide her grin; a bloke was a bloke, regardless of species and no matter his perceived intellectual or physical superiority. She guided his feet into the legs of the trousers, and slowly slid the thin fabric up his calves, over his knees, up to mid-thigh. She looked back up at the Doctor, whose eyes were now closed. She'd noticed his habit of resting the tip of his tongue against his teeth when he was thinking or working out a problem, he was doing it now, and she thought it a very good thing indeed that he hadn't done that in court when trying to talk their way out of this mess. He appeared to be fighting to keep his composure, and Rose once again grinned. The Doctor must have sensed her reaction; his eyes flew open, and he practically growled, "Don't tease me, Rose Tyler."

She swallowed. "Let's get you standing, shall we?" Rose cringed as she squeaked the instructions out. A flicker of triumph passed over the Doctor's face. She shifted, and then guided the Doctor to stand as her right hand brought his trousers up. She winced as they caught, the Doctor's face briefly showing a flash of discomfort; she looked down and used both hands to guide the brown and blue fabric up and over his hips. Her hands were shaking as she reached down to close the zip and fasten the catch.

She wasn't sure how much longer she could do this.

The Doctor appeared to have the same thought; as soon as she was done, he reached into the box for her top, and wasted absolutely no time in helping her to pull it on. She, in turn, reached into the box containing his clothes and pulled out his brown Henley; he reached his arms out and she practically yanked it up his arms and over his head; one of the buttons caught in his hair, and there was some minor scrambling as they attempted to free his hair and get his shirt on. Next was his blue button-down, and Rose fought to stifle a laugh as the two of them hurried even faster to get him into it and buttoned up. It was like some weird rewind of a frantic rush to get naked for a shag. They both looked down then back up at each other.

"I vote we leave you untucked today." The Doctor nodded sharply in agreement and Rose reached back into the box for the Doctor's suit coat. It was the work of seconds to get that onto him, Rose having helped him on with it often enough. She peeked back into the box. "Socks, too?"

"Socks, too."

She sighed, then reached for his socks. "Have a seat, let's finish getting you dressed so we can get back to the TARDIS." _Where I can take all of this off you again_, she finished mentally.

His eyes flashed; and she found herself wondering if she was just that transparent with her thoughts, or if he was as telepathic as his ship. She'd have to find that out one day; but first she had to finish dressing the Doctor. Kneeling, she tried not to laugh at his socks; she'd somehow failed to notice that the brown cotton had little blue dogs woven into them. Where had he found those? And why did he have them? She slid them onto his feet, then reached over for his well-worn Chucks and helped him put them on. She tied the laces into a double-knot as he always did, then stood. "Right, just the coat to go for you."

He looked into the box that had held Rose's clothing and pulled out her socks. "Just the socks for you." He stood, while she sat in the spot he vacated, then knelt in front of her and unrolled her plain white socks. He took his time before putting them on her feet, running his hands up her ankles and her calves before bringing them lightly back down to her foot. She let out a slight moan, and he looked back up at her with a wicked little grin.

That was not acceptable. Not at all. "Don't tease _me_, Doctor," she said in a low voice.

His grin faded. In a flash, he had her socks and trainers back on her feet. Standing, he pulled her up to him, wrapping his arms around her as he whispered into her ear, "I'm not teasing, Rose Tyler. I never tease. Not about this." He stepped back and gave her a steady gaze. Rose felt her breath catch once again. "Now. Let's get the coat and be on our way, hmm?"

Rose stepped back to the bench and reached down into the box for the coat; she shook it out as she turned, and helped the Doctor slide into it. The coat on, he turned to her, leaned towards her, his eyes focused on hers, just a quirk of a smile at the corner of his mouth, closer…

Rose thought she was going to faint, and closed her eyes. Only to feel the Doctor reach around her. She opened her eyes, confused, and saw him stand back up with his glasses in hand.

"Shall we?" He tucked the glasses into a coat pocket, and held his hand out to her.

Excellent. Time to go home. Time to get naked again. Splendid.

A door opened for them magically and they stepped out together, hand-in-hand, instantly greeted by another bureaucrat at another desk. Or possibly the same one. Everything looked the same on this planet. And she was a bit distracted by the fact that the Doctor's hair was more every which way than usual from the specs having been perched in them strongly resembling the way he looked after he made love to her and her hands had been torn through that hair a few too many times. It was really, _really _ distracting. She _had _ to get him to the TARDIS.

"You will pay your fine," the bureaucrat intoned.

Rose bit back her groan. The bloody fine. She'd forgotten all about it.

"Right," agreed the Doctor, patting at his coat and smiling as he felt the reassuring weight of the sonic screwdriver. "I need to get to a cash point. Don't have the money on me."

The bureaucrat nodded toward Rose. "She'll stay here."

"What makes you so sure I'll come back for her?" asked the Doctor.

"Charming," Rose said.

He grinned, unrepentant, then remarked, "Hold on." He reached into his coat for his specs, then grabbed her shirt and wiped them on it.

"Oi!" Rose tried to twist away from him. "Clean them on your coat!"

"I've only got one of these coats; you've got loads of shirts. There. Perfect." He winked at her as he tucked the glasses back into his pocket and headed out the door.

Rose glanced at the bureaucrat who stared at her with unabashed interest. She smiled and gave him a little wave. His expression did not change.

Rose sat on the bench in the boring grey room. It wasn't heated like the bench in the other room, which was too bad because she'd liked that after spending most of the day cold. Also, it felt like flowing water again, an uncomfortable thing to be sitting on. She frowned at the pomade residue his specs had left behind on her shirt, and shook her head. It was a good thing he was so damn cute, she thought. And it was a good thing that she still wanted him as much as she did. That was, truthfully, a bit astonishing, how breathless he could make her with just a look, how desperate he could make her with just a touch. She had thought, before she and the Doctor had finally gotten together, that the single-minded way she desired him would subside a bit. That hadn't happened. The only thing that had subsided was her level of frustration.

The Doctor was gone long enough that she had begun planning exactly what she would do to him when she got him in the TARDIS. When he walked back into the room he was treated to a smile of such sheer carnal longing that he stopped short and stared at her.

"Do you have the money?" asked the bureaucrat.

Rose had stood and, holding his gaze, lazily stretched. The Doctor, with a great effort, tore his eyes away from her and looked at the bureaucrat. "Uh, yes, yes. Here you are." He passed several small red blocks across to the bureaucrat, and the bureaucrat handed him a form.

"Are we ready to go?" purred Rose in his ear.

He jumped, startled, and looked down at her. When had she crept up to him like that? And must she really press against him that way? He signed the form hastily.

"I don't think you read that, Doctor," commented Rose, sounding amused.

"To hell with that," he growled, taking her hand and dragging her out. "We're all set, right?" he thought to toss over his shoulder, but the bureaucrat just looked at them steadily, which the Doctor took as an affirmative. "Good," he said, and pulled Rose out of the prison.

It was darker now, not fully night but clearly getting there.

"Free once more," said Rose, as they stood for a moment on the street.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"The TARDIS, of course," she replied, surprised.

"It's just that I got us enough money to go to dinner. Someplace nice. The restaurants aren't bad here—"

"I'm not going to a restaurant with you on this planet. I cannot think of a better set-up for disaster. No, back to the TARDIS. Come on." She tugged to get him moving, and sent him a quizzical glance. "You really thought I'd want to go out?" She thought she was being pretty obvious about what she wanted to do.

"No, I'm just…You've had a tough day. Not so much fun. Worrying and…everything. I thought it might be nice. You might enjoy it."

That was sweet. That was the sort of stuff that made up for getting them locked up all day in the first place. "Next planet," she said. "Or moon or asteroid or whatever. Why Fromp?"

"Hmm?"

"Why'd you say we were from Fromp?"

"Oh. They don't really care for Frompians here. Not violently, just they think they're rather odd. I thought it was a perfect cover for us because I didn't want to tell, you know, the truth."

"Your speech in there? About how I'm the most obedient little companion ever?"

He sighed heavily. "Wishful thinking."

She laughed and turned to walk backward in front of him, grinning at him and batting her eyelashes in a playfully exaggerated manner. "You know how I promised you could do anything you wanted with your tongue once we got back to the TARDIS?"

He grinned back. "Do you have requests?"

"Well, I'm willing to listen to your suggestions."

"Anything I want with my tongue," he mused, digging his key out of his pocket as they came up to the TARDIS. "Hmm. You know how the bi-time chronographer meter has been clicking?"

She stared at him. "What?"

He finally pulled his key out. "I may give that a lick, figure out what's wrong with it—" He fitted his key in the lock, not quite succeeding in hiding his smile.

She smiled as well, stood on tiptoe, and blew into his ear. The Doctor's hand slipped, scraping the key over the door.

"What do you think," she whispered, "they would do if I licked you right now?"

The Doctor dropped his key altogether. "Rose," he said. "Let me get us in the TARDIS—" He ducked down to snatch the key up, and Rose leaned over and swirled her tongue around his ear before he had the opportunity to straighten entirely.

"If they shoot me unconscious again, I am blaming you, Rose Tyler," he bit out, trying and failing to get the key in the lock, which, admittedly, was mostly difficult because his eyelids had fluttered closed of their own accord.

She chuckled and closed her teeth around his earlobe.

"I give up." He thrust the key into her hands suddenly. "Open the door, would you?" he said, and fastened his hands onto her waist and bent down to kiss her neck.

Rose, being focused on the prize at the end of it all, managed to get the key into the lock and to turn it successfully.

"Good job," he mumbled as they practically tumbled in together.

"That's me," she said, around his lips. "Rookie traveller."

"I am going to do," he vowed, breathlessly, "the most astonishing things to you with my tongue." He was trying to make progress toward the console without taking his hands or his mouth off of her. He was not doing very well.

"But you don't have a permit," she half-giggled, as she rammed a bit unpleasantly up against the controls.

"Which is why we're getting off this ridiculous planet." He paused long enough to lean over her and spin a few dials and press a few buttons.

"And we signed a contract agreeing never to do unspeakable things to each other with our tongues."

"Rose—" He flipped a lever. "The unspeakable things we do to each other with our tongues make my life worth living."

"But today we learned all about just how dangerous the tongue is," she reminded him, solemnly.

He paused and regarded her. "They are savages on that planet," he said, finally. "Really, truly savages. They don't know what they're talking about. It was fascinating how wrong they are about the tongue and its—"

"Shut up and take my shirt off me."

"I just put this shirt _on _ you," he reminded her.

"Take it off me," she said again, pushing his coat off him. It dropped heavily to the floor at his feet.

"If you insist," he said, pulling the shirt up and over her head and throwing it over his shoulder.

"Also," she began, and then pulled his head down to kiss him.

He grunted to indicate he was still listening. Well, listening a little bit. Listening and taking off her jeans. Because he was talented like that.

"Not in the control room," she gasped, around his kisses. "You know I always end up with a lever or something sticking into my back, and then I—"

"One of us is talking too much," he muttered. "And it's not me." But he tried, obligingly, to take a few steps toward a hallway that the TARDIS would surely allow to lead immediately to his bedroom. Instead, inconveniently, his feet got tangled in his coat and he half-fell with her onto the captain's chair in a tangle of limbs and half-removed clothing. He swore, trying to extract his feet from his coat, which he couldn't manage because Rose was unbuttoning his shirt and attempting to push it and his suit jacket off him at the same time. He finally kicked his trainers off completely before shrugging out of those next two layers of clothing.

"The thing about making you dress each other..." he said.

"Too many bloody layers," Rose grumbled to herself, pulling his Henley over his head.

"...is how much it really does make you want to take everything off again. It's the only brilliant thing about that place."

He usually babbled this way, and Rose seldom paid attention to him, but she paused suddenly, her hands at his fly. She looked up at him.

"You've stopped," he pointed out, glancing down and then back up at her, eyebrows lifted.

"You knew about that," she said, slowly.

"Knew about what?" There was a flash of something in those dark eyes. Maybe he looked a bit dazed with lust, but there was a flash of something else there, too.

Rose watched him, piecing it together. "You knew that we had to dress each other. You knew all about that. You knew what they think about Fromp—you knew we'd have to spend the day naked but for our shoes, you knew we wouldn't be imprisoned too long, you knew what the mineral was, and you _knew _—" Here she suddenly poked him violently in the chest. "That public display of tongue was not permitted!"

The Doctor looked at her for a moment, clearly weighing his options. "Wellllll," he began. "Why don't we discuss this after I do the things I've promised to do to you with my tongue, hmm?" He reached to unclasp her bra.

She stood up, hitching her undone jeans and holding them perched over her hips, and scurried away from him. "You did it on purpose!" she accused. "Because you were bored!"

"Roooooose," he whined. "Let's go to the bedroom and finish undressing. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"You…!" she exclaimed. "You…!" She stalked over to him, finger raised threateningly. He pressed against the back of the chair, watching her warily. And then she grinned suddenly and launched her fingers at his midsection in a furious tickle attack that left him kicking and gasping helplessly until he managed to grab her hands away.

"What did I tell you about that?" he demanded.

"Never tickle a Time Lord," she said, eyes dancing with laughter. "Unless he's just made you sit around naked all day."

"I didn't make you lick the wall, too, you know." His eyes turned suddenly serious. He let go of her hands and cupped her face. "And I had no idea that they would shoot me. I really didn't. I wouldn't have worried you like that. Not on purpose. You know that, right?"

She smiled at him. "Come on. You do things with your tongue and I just might do things with mine."

He grinned. "Well, that's excellent." He stood up, then paused. "Things to me, right? You're doing things with your tongue to me?"

"No, I'm licking the bi-time chronographer meter."

"Cheeky," he said, and then startled her by hoisting her over his shoulder and carrying her, laughing, down the hallway.

Which conveniently led straight to the bedroom.

Which meant that it was only a short time later when Rose told the Doctor that he had the most talented tongue in all of space and time. A remark he stored away to remind her of the next time he licked something and landed them in trouble


End file.
